


Trust Exercise

by tanglelore



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Robot Sex, Smuppets, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanglelore/pseuds/tanglelore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "It doesn't really count as giving up control if you programmed the one holding the reins, does it?"</p><p>Dirk finds out firsthand just how blurry those lines can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Exercise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lildogie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildogie/gifts).



He finished debugging the last few lines of code, tapped the keyboard, and took a deep breath. The compiler chirped, a friendly round 'working' icon spun, a progress bar ticked (23 minutes remaining) and Dirk sipped his orange soda and waited. He eyed his unmoving metal companion. He'd already made the physical adjustments necessary to achieve his goals, now he just needed the software, and then Operation: Probably Not A Good Idea But What The Hell Let's Do This Thing Let's Make This Happen was ready to ride the rails to the land of Maybe I Should Have Thought This Through A Little More and well past I Hope This Doesn't Kill Me. But fuck it, better to test it on himself before sending Brobot 2.0 off to Jake, right? Worst case, he had a failsafe (codename: safeword, actual text: Dashie) that he could use to escape, and he'd backed up all of Sawtooth's original programming in triplicate, just in case. 

The timer ticked down (17 minutes remaining), and he fidgeted. He felt a little nervous about the possibility of needing to completely disarm his main long-distance defensebot, but there'd been a drone attack a few days earlier and they never came too close together, so he'd probably be fine for at least a week, even if the worst happened.

Twelve minutes. He toyed with his stylus, idly doodling a highly-detailed plush rump in short-shorts, which he then erased because who the fuck needs that kind of subconscious assholery. There was, after all, more than one reason for this particular test. Ten. He neatened up his desk, putting away wires and scraps of metal and tools. Seven. Battled Squarewave for kicks. Five. Stuffed Squarewave into a closet and told him to practice his raps quietly. Four. The last two minutes flashed by in a sudden lurch of the progress bar, a chipper "beep!", and it was done. Just a quick upload, then it was go time.

He rebooted Sawtooth, hooked him to to the uplink, and started the dataflow. He watched as red lights blinked across the robot's black eyes. The upgrade finished, and the newly-reprogrammed rapbot stood up and looked at him.

"Hey, bro. Ready for some strife?"

Sawtooth nodded. Dirk picked up his katana and headed towards the roof. Everything would be fine. He was 97.3% certain that everything would be fine.

\--

They sparred, sword on fist, Sawtooth's cloak fluttering around the gaps left by removing his rocket launchers. Dirk admired his handiwork, the way the robot moved and flowed, avoiding slashes and cuts with inhuman elegance. He was still better at this type of battle, the human element giving him a slight advantage in terms of surprise, but it was still pretty goddamn amazing to watch. So amazing, in fact, that Dirk nearly caught a fist to the gut while he was lost in admiration. He huffed and reminded himself that this was supposed to be a test situation, not just strife practice with a robot he couldn't destroy in minutes.

"Strife mode-RD, execute."

His voice did not in any way waver. 

The shift was immediate; the next attack came with an open hand, sliding down his arm, almost a caress. He lurched away, shocked despite _knowing_ what was coming, then recovered and swung back. It was weak, embarassingly kittenish, and Sawtooth batted it away and advanced. Another swing, and the robot did something it never would have done during a regular strife: it grabbed his sword, twisting it out of his suddenly loose grip and tossing it aside. Dirk's palms stung, and he ran, darting behind a block of fans to breathe. He knew what the program was, he knew that this was exactly the behavior that was supposed to occur, but it still hurt. That was against the rules. Your Bro wasn't supposed to cheat. He caught his train of thought and knocked his head against the cement. Stupid, no.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he dodged left fast as Sawtooth's fingers trailed across where his shoulders had just been. He leaped over the discarded metal carcass of last week's duel-to-the-death, dodging bizarrely soft, leisurely blows. It was an endurance test more than anything else -- as long as he could hold out he could keep out of Sawtooth's hands. He estimated his stamina at a maximum of fifteen minutes, though, and after that. Well. After that he'd find out if the rest of the program worked properly. 

Then Sawtooth engaged his rocket kicks and took to the air. Dirk cursed and went for the stairwell. If he could just get inside, flight would no longer be an asset. He was nearly there, hand almost curling around the handle, when Sawtooth grabbed him by the back of his shirt and flung him across the roof. He landed heavily on his back, stunned. The robot landed and walked towards him, metal sneakers crunching on the ancient asphalt. Dirk waited, breathless, until Sawtooth was standing over him, reaching down, then executed a perfect kip-up with a solid rabbit kick to the robot's chest. It spun backwards and Dirk took off towards the door again. He knew, because he'd built the thing and had the specs memorized from day one, he _knew_ it was faster than he was, that he wouldn't make it, but he couldn't just give up.

He didn't even make it halfway before he felt a firm metal hand clamp down on his arm. He jerked, trying to struggle, and Sawtooth grabbed him by the hair. Dirk stilled, not wanting this strife to end in an abrupt scalping, but Sawtooth just held him there, claws flexing on his scalp. He shivered. It felt kind of...good. Seeing that he'd stopped fighting, the robot released his arm, tracing up along it to his chin. It tipped his head back, stroking slowly along his throat. Dirk's heart pounded. It wrapped its hand around his neck. His breath came in short bursts, spikes of fear tempered with the sure knowledge that he had a safeword, that he could back out if he got too scared. Sawtooth stared down at him, black optical ports locked on his, cocked his head, then grabbed his arms and frogmarched him inside. When they came to the stairs, it picked him up by his wrists and back of the neck. Dirk suddenly understood the videos he'd seen of baby animals going limp when their parents carried them by the scruff. He wasn't, like, paralyzed or anything, he just couldn't bring himself to fight it. He wanted to submit to it. The thought frightened him and he twitched, only to feel Sawtooth's grip tighten minutely, just enough to make him freeze again. It carried him into the apartment and pushed him face-first against the wall, looming over him and just pressing its ceramic-plate torso against his back.

"Fuck."

He was starting to get hard. He knew that was kind of part of the idea, to get and deal with boners, but it was still just a little uncomfortable. Dirk felt suddenly glad that he'd put Squarewave away. He wasn't sure he could deal with the possibility of the smaller bot seeing this.

Sawtooth kept him still, but released his arms to take his shirt collar in both hands. Dirk's eyes widened as he realized its intent -- and then it tore his shirt in half. The sound was loud in the still apartment, as was the gasp that followed it. Dirk barely recognized it as his own voice. The robot stroked his hair and back, then turned him around. Dirk's skin was beginning to feel electric, and he was pretty sure it was not because there was a leak somewhere in Sawtooth's plates. It tingled everywhere the robot touched him and he closed his eyes and closed his fists against the wall. Sawtooth touched his face again, petting his cheek, heavy fingers perilously close to his eyes. It removed his glasses and threw them further into the apartment. Dirk heard them land with a clatter and mentally cursed a little. They'd be okay, and he had spares, but still. He'd have to adjust the algorithm to make sure that the robot would be more careful of his possessions. Sawtooth brought his attention back by tapping his cheek. Clearly it could tell when he was getting distracted. It leaned down.

If the robot had been a human, Dirk would have lifted his face up for a kiss. A sudden wave of discomfort washed over him, reminding him that this was the best he had, that he was alone except for the company he had made himself. He stopped fighting the urge. Dirk raised his arms, slowly, so that Sawtooth wouldn't think he was fighting it, wrapped them around its body. He pressed his lips, quivering slightly, to its jaw. It was so smooth, so strange, not human in the least, but still familiar, his creation. He let that soothe him. It embraced him in return, but one hand was already slipping down his body, curling around the waistband of his jeans. He panicked a little, not wanting to lose one of his relatively few pairs of good pants.

"Wait, wait. Let me, um. You don't have to take those off for me, okay. I'm, let me do it."

Sawtooth backed off a little, just enough, but stretched one arm out to lazily punch the wall next to his head. Dirk shook. The threat displays were starting to frighten him. Not enough to call it off, but a little more than he'd expected. He stripped off his pants, then leaned back against the wall and looked up at Sawtooth. The robot looked down at him, impassive and unreadable. It made him feel naked, even with his boxers still on. His dick was pretty hard, though whether with arousal or fear, he couldn't quite decide. He licked his lips.

Sawtooth ran its hands down his arms, then seized his wrists and pulled them up above his head. It held him there easily with one hand and with the other reached into a compartment in its side. Fuck. He'd forgotten about the magnetic clamp wires. 

"Hey, uh, I'm not sure..."

Wasn't he? 

The robot pulled a wire out and wrapped one around his left wrist. It paused, looking at him. 

Wasn't he?

He looked away, and it secured his other wrist. The ride had suddenly become just a little bumpier. His heartbeat fluttered and he blurted out, "Can you take me in my room? I mean, into my room? There's some stuff there that you can use. If you want."

Even as he stammered his way through his request, his ears heating with embarrassment, he felt a keen absurdity in it. Asking a robot what it wanted to do? How was that any part of this? 

Sawtooth nodded once and let his wrists down, then hefted him onto its shoulder and carried him into his room. It set him in the middle of the floor and waited.

"Lube is under the gray hat, and you can use one of the smuppets. I kind of like the orange one, but the red one's pretty good, too."

Sawtooth nodded, and grabbed him, and casually tossed him onto the bed. Dirk took a moment to marvel at how precise everything the robot did was. He'd been tossed so he'd land on his front with his arms stretched out, with his head exactly six inches away from the edge of his desk and his hips right on his pillow heap. It was almost ludicrous how cool that guy was. Only his Bro could possibly be cooler. 

Sawtooth pulled his boxers down, and he wriggled. Sure, he'd done this to himself countless times, but this was different. Really different. The robot slapped his ass and he shouted, startled out of his reverie. He rolled over to start to yell at him, and Sawtooth grabbed his ankles and lifted them up and back, forcing him to bend his knees and expose his hole. He gulped his words back in favor of a gasp. 

It held him there, then leaned over him, yanked the orange smuppet out from under his shoulder, set it on his stomach, then pulled the lube out of the hat resting on the side of his bed. Dirk's dick twitched. 

"Fuck, Bro. ...Fuck."

This was absolutely happening. The program was working, and his safety parameters were pretty close to perfect. He might tone down a few aspects before including it in a robot intended for someone else, but in the meantime, he was getting laid. 

The shock of cold lube delivered by metal hands made him jump, but Sawtooth only tightened his grip on Dirk's ankles and pressed his legs a little further back. The robot carefully dampened the firm plush proboscis of the smuppet and held it against Dirk's ass. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, his still bound hands clenching in the sheets over his head. Sawtooth propped his legs on one broad shoulder, spread his asscheeks a little more, and slid the smuppet home. Dirk shuddered; he never did it that fast on his own, preferring a bit of teasing and a lot more foreplay before getting down to the business of insertion, but oh, fuck it felt great. He rolled his hips up, hoping that the point would come across that he wanted to be fucked, but Sawtooth ignored him, keeping it deep inside him and giving only short, sharp thrusts that made his abdomen ache. He writhed, wishing his hands were free so he could get his hands on his dick, wishing his Bro would quit dicking him around and just give him what he so desperately needed after the last forty minutes of being manhandled and tossed around like a doll. Like a puppet.

The thought occurred to him and he groaned. At the noise, Sawtooth changed his pattern, sliding it in and out more smoothly. Was this part of the program? He didn't remember building in a reward system? The robot hit his prostate and he lost his train of thought at the burst of intense pleasure. He moaned, and Sawtooth did it again.

"Bro, harder."

His voice was barely a whisper, but the robot acknowledged and started really fucking him properly, letting go of his hip to add more lube as necessary. Having someone else there, holding the smuppet, in control of the entire scene, was beyond his hopes. He whined and whimpered for his Bro, letting him see exactly how much he was coming apart under his hands. He let his legs fall open, resting on his partner's shoulders so he could grind against the soft plush. His breath turned sharp, heavy gasps falling from his lips. With his eyes closed, he could fantasize that it really was his Bro, or maybe Jake. Someone warm, someone he could lose himself in, maybe fuck them after, maybe they'd be willing to wrap their mouths around his dick and at the thought of a warm tongue swirling around the head of his cock, he came, spurting hot and messy over his stomach and chest. He shuddered his way through the aftershocks and then stilled. 

Sawtooth removed the smuppet and set his limp legs down on the bed. Dirk lay there, silent, as the robot unbound his arms and rubbed his wrists. It grabbed a towel and rubbed away most of the mess, then disappeared briefly, returning with a damp towel to clean up the rest. When he was clean, it gave him a clean pair of boxers, then picked him up, cradling him in its arms, and took him to the living room. It set him on the futon, found his shades and sat next to him. Dirk looked sideways at Sawtooth. It opened its arms and he crawled into its lap, bundling himself up in the voluminous cape. He felt a little weird, kind of fragile and not quite himself. The word vulnerable crossed his mind and he rejected it as totally un-Strider. But he was grateful that he'd thought to include aftercare as a subroutine. Jake was way more delicate than he was, after all, and he'd no doubt appreciate it. 

"Strife mode-RD, end program."

He mumbled the necessary instructions. He'd reassemble the rocket launchers tomorrow. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

Sawtooth shifted slightly under him as his usual parameters reinstated themselves, but did not move as Dirk drifted into a light doze in its lap.


End file.
